Anything That Brings You Back Home to Me
by mrsmotherchucker
Summary: Chuck returns after a being gone for a year, and Blair has an emotional battle between what is right and what is easy. T for mild language. Very character study-ish, if that's your kind of thing.
1. A Crack In The Glass

Chuck Bass slammed his empty scotch glass down onto the wood, hoping that the sound would stop the sickening cuddling happening across the bar. It had been a year since he'd been back to New York City, and it was the same as it always had been. Same bar, same people, same damn couples. It made him almost sick to his stomach, the consistancy of it all. He expected things to change. Stupid. He picked up his scotch glass and watched the little moisture left drip down to the bottom through his hazy vision. Slowly, slowly dripping. As slowly as his life passed before his eyes, meaning nothing to him.

Then he heard her giggle. Almost reflexively, he slammed the glass down onto the bar, hearing it crack as he did. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms and his heart pounded in his ears. He hunched over farther onto the bar, hiding his face with his shoulders, breathing heavily though his nose. The gasps of cold air into his throat did nothing but make him more anxious, hearing nothing but the frantic palpatations that were shaking his body. If anyone payed attention to him, they would notice the strange resemblence he bore to a wild animal at this moment in time, for the sheer anger and pain that intoxicated his body was overwhelming. All from one giggle.

But no one recognized Chuck Bass even after just a year, because the "tossled hair, browned skin and stubble look" was the exact opposite of how he was last year. He looked in the mirror and smirked. He reminded himself of Carter Baizen, which disgusted him. Rich boy traveling across the globe, sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, smoking as much hash as possible, running away from his problems. Well, problem. The same one that sat twenty feet away, happier without him.

"Refill," Chuck grunted, sliding his cracked glass towards the bartender.

"Right away, Mr. Bass," he said smoothly, starting to walk away.

Wait. His name. That guy knew his name. Chuck reached out and grabbed the bartender's sleeve desperately. Someone cared. Maybe. Someone knew about him.

"How do you know my name?" he muttered, his eyes a little wild.

"Well, I do remember you from last year, sir. You look a bit different, but you always order the same thing," the bartender smiled, sheepishly.

Chuck nodded, a bit of electricity sparking inside of him. Someone cared.

"Plus, that girl over there has asked about you every damn night for a year!" the bartender said conversationally. "Did you guys have a thing before?"

Chuck's heart stopped beating. His mouth dried and countless emotions shot through him like a bullet, almost causing him pain because of the pure power of it all. He closed his eyes letting it flow through him, imagining her flawless smile.

"Yeah. We did." he gasped, not entirely sure that the bartender heard him.

He turned his barstool around slowly, not entirely sure of what his body was doing. His heart was still in his chest, his palms sweaty. Then he caught a glance of her. And he couldn't stop. He stared.

Her shiny, smooth legs were crossed, her left foot tapping impatiently as it always did. Of course she was wearing heels. Her skirt was a bright green, her elaborate top barely showing any cleavage, because she was too classy. Too beautiful. She was staring at the ceiling, her gorgeous brown eyes darting back and forth. And she was sitting next to Nate. Nate Archibald, his best friend. He knew that they were together, but the visual evidence was painful. But the perfection of his former lover was a powerful opiate.

Suddenly, her eyes stopped moving. Chuck gripped the barstool with his wet hands, watching her every move. Her head slowly moved downwards, coming closer and closer to meeting his gaze. Nothing mattered but her. Nothing. Nothing. Even farther downwards. Nothing.

She caught his gaze. Blair Waldorf's eyes filled with tears.


	2. One Year Earlier

_Okay, I apologize that there is a lot of Nate in this chapter. But I thought it was necessary to understand what Blair is going through. This chapter starts last year when Chuck left. Enjoy!_

* * *

Blair Waldorf's feet were sinking through the floor. The room seemed to cave in on her, her eyes becoming heavier and heavier and she felt her head ring with an instant headache. That one sentence that exited Serena's heavily glossed lips froze every organ, every limb in her body. She felt nothing move, except for the slight tremble of her fingers hanging awkwardly, pathetically at her sides. She wished she could pick herself back up again, make herself seem strong. But every puppet string that held her fragile body together had been cut with two words, leaving her hanging motionless. Vulnerable.

"He's gone," her best friend had said.

Blair couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. The glue that held the pieces of her broken self together would evaporate. This was not how the movie was supposed to go. Her movie. _He _wasn't part of the life she pictured, and she could handle that. But Blair. Alone. Without him. The way he seized her face in his soft hands as he kissed her, his breath tasting of scotch and hash, making her head swirl. Her teeth seemed to have molded themselves together, and opening her mouth even slightly caused aching. The way he ran her fingers through her hair, feeling him smile as he kissed right below her ear. Stop. Blair. Stop. Do not think of him. Nothing. He cannot matter.

"Who?" she felt her mouth open, the small amount of movement making her insides jolt.

I'll forget him. I'm Blair Waldorf. I don't need anyone. Blair. He's gone.

She saw Serena cock her head to the side through her misty eyes, her best friend's expression towards Blair being an odd mixture of pity, sadness and exasperation.

"Chuck, Blair," Serena said softly, her blue eyes wide with concern.

Blair's body silently screamed with pain, and she wanted to crumble to the floor. Her eyes began to burn, the room began to swirl. The sound of his name sent shocks of agony that rang through her head, everything a blur. She had no idea what was happening, how much time was passing, but she felt soft warm hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she heard her best friend's voice echoing in her ears. Through her now hollow body. She felt hollow. She felt like nothing.

**_One Week Later_**

"Miss Blair!" Dorota called, as Blair lay face down in her comforter. Although she hadn't cried, she seemed to walk around like a ghost. She hardly ever left the house, hardly interacted with anyone. Mostly she just lay.

"Mister Nate is here!" she heard the faint Polish accent from downstairs. Blair did not move. The sheets had become moist and hot from her breath, and she imagined how deranged she would look when she emerged to face Nate. Old Blair would have freaked out, scurrying across the room, brushing her hair and clumsily applying mascara. This Blair (if you could call her Blair) didn't care. About anything.

"Hey, Blair," she heard his soft voice from the doorway.

She lifted her face from the covers, feeling gross and disheveled, and looked at her ex. He was extraordinarily handsome. She could see his muscles rippling through his button down, his callused hands gripping his lacrosse stick. His hair was perfectly smoothed down, his sparkling blue eyes kind. But he was pretty. Blair remembered how incredibly attracted she was to him, how obsessed she was with having him. She was almost disgusted, for when she looked at him now, he seemed just… empty. Like her. She felt no emotion, no spark when she saw him. She stared.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Nate said apologetically, setting his backpack and lacrosse stick down cautiously, as if Blair was a wild animal who couldn't be disturbed.

"No. Hey." Blair said flatly.

He sat on a chair, smiling awkwardly at her, and she attempted to smile back. Her mouth curved upwards, but her eyes stayed cold. Nate was clutching a box in his tanned hands.

"What's that?" Blair asked, attempting to sound mildly curious.

"Oh! Well, umm…" Nate mumbled awkwardly. "I broke up with Vanessa this morning. Things just weren't working out."

"I'm sorry," Blair said automatically, still staring at him blankly. She was trying to remember, to bring back the feelings she had for him previously. But she was feeling nothing. And she wanted to feel something.

"And, err… I couldn't think of anyone else to come to but you," he said, his cheeks flushing. It reminded Blair of how adorable she used to think that was. But not now. Godamnit! Why not now! "So I got you chocolates. The "Gold Collection". Your favorite."

He waited for her to respond. Waited.

"Thank you, Nate! That's really sweet!" Blair smiled. But her eyes didn't dance the way they used to. She just showed her teeth. But Nate didn't notice. He never noticed much before, either.

Suddenly, she realized that Nate was leaning in towards her slowly. He smelt of athletic sweat, cologne and leather, just as he did before. That used to melt her heart. She almost felt like she had no heart anymore, and she clutched her chest where she thought it should be. Still beating. It was still beating. She was still living. She wondered how she was surviving.

Blair felt Nate's forehead touch hers, and she watched his long, dark lashes close over his blue eyes. He leaned in even closer, and she felt his watery breath on her nose. He was going to kiss her. Did she remember how? She felt his soft lips on hers. But she felt nothing. Still.

**_6 Months Later_**

"Same thing tonight, Miss Waldorf?" the bartender chirped, winking at Blair.

"Yes," Blair smiled at him. Her eyes were still flat. No emotion. Nothing. Godamnit. Godamnit.

The bartender began to walk away.

"Dave!" she called after him, her voice raspy. She hadn't been sleeping well.

Dave sighed and turned around, walking towards her with his head bowed. He leaned in close to her, his eyes sad.

"I know what you're gonna ask me, but the answer's always the same," he said quietly, soothing. "I'm sorry. He's not here. And I don't think he's comin' back."

He patted Blair's arm and walked away to make her martini. Blair's head began to throb. It hurt her to hear this from Dave. Every night, she came and asked for _him. _And every night he said he hadn't showed up.

"A girl can dream, can't she?" Blair smiled her empty smile, as Dave returned, sliding the drink towards her.

"Yeah, but dreamin' didn't get me that financial aid to Columbia, and now look at me. So there's no use dreamin'." Dave grinned weakly. "Plus, you have that guy you've come in here with. Why don't you go back to him? He's good lookin', like yourself."

"Yeah, he is," **s**he said quietly.

Blair downed her martini in one gulp.

**_Present Day_**

It was him. He was almost unrecognizable, but she could never forget him. Ever. She felt something for the first time in what seemed like forever. Bubbles of pain and pleasure sent fire through her stomach to her brain and she wanted to scream. Staring at him, she thought she was dreaming. She was unprepared for this day, as much as she had dreamed of it. His face, his beautiful face. Her body shook inside and out, her heart thumping loudly in her ears.

Blair Waldorf's eyes filled with tears.


End file.
